221B Baker Elementary
by Sordida Liberalis
Summary: AU - Kidlock; Sherlock Holmes is the outcast of his first grade classroom and bullied often by the mean Anderson. However, things are about to change as a new kid from a military family moves into the classroom. Credit: Icon by winter-ghost on deviant art, title: Avast thee- protect yer swag; various beta's.
1. The New Kid

"Students, Let me introduce you to your new classmate. Meet John Watson. Would you like to tell us a little bit about yourself, John?" Sherlock rolls his eyes as the teacher trying to convince the young boy to speak. How daft could she be? He's obviously in a military family- one glance at his hair and right pocket in his book bag could tell her that.

"Um… My dad just got relocated here, and because he's gonna be here more than two years, my mum and I moved with him…." John says quietly. Sherlock notes how he's confident and mostly unafraid for a seven year old boy in a new school; probably not his first move then.

"Alright, thank you, John." She glances around the room briefly, picking out the empty desk right next to… "Sherlock, do you mind if John sits by you?" He considers answering no, just to discover Mrs. Hudson's expression, but the look she's giving him tells him he'd be spending all recess in timeout. He can't afford that- He's got an experiment going with the flowers in the garden out front.

"I s'pose." He answers, bored now. He returns to where he was attempting to perfect his sketch of yesterday's experiment, however flower petals are ridiculously difficult to draw accurately. He vaguely registers the new kid sitting in the chair next to him. The entire room was arranged to support partner work. Disgusting.

"Hello." John says politely, when the teacher has begun her lesson. Intelligent or Overly Social? "Sorry if I'm bothering you. I learned this a month ago at my old school." He says when Sherlock doesn't reply. Intelligent then. Very promising. He did need someone to watch his back as he attempted to transplant his flowers.

"How do you feel about Hydrangea's?" Sherlock asks John suddenly. The new boy gives him a funny look. Curiously he doesn't look creeped out like the other boys- the boys like Anderson who called him creep and freak before stepping on his tulips.

"Wassat?" He asks. His voice is no higher than a whisper- he doesn't want to get in trouble on the first day of a new school. Sherlock laughs quietly. He wondered if he'd ever get tired of knowing all these things about people no one else new.

"A hydrangea is a type of flower. It changes color based on the acidity of the ground. I've planned an experiment to see if my theory of one side of the playground being more acidic is true." He explains under his breath. He easily solves the practice math problems Mrs. Hudson has put on the board throughout his explanation.

"Sounds… interesting. Is it true?" John is more fascinated that Sherlock knows these facts than by the facts themselves. Sherlock studies him as he also sets to work solving the same problem- a fairly beginner addition problem.

"Of course it's true. It'd be pointless to lie. To set up a fake experiment. Boring and a waste of time." John bites the tip of his pencil as he struggles to remember what eight plus five is, but he soon scrawls down his answer- it matches Sherlock's perfectly.

"So what are you doing to test this idea?" John asks curiously. He's new, he's happy to be making a friend, and happy to have something to do other than just review old math problems.

"I plan on moving the plant to behind the jungle gym, where it can't be seen. I'm going to take care of it for a week to a month depending on how long it takes to be sure of the results. Watch it to see if it changes color."He replies.

"Why?" John's inquisitive- so that's a point in his favor. Sherlock continues to study him as he works. He's picked up the pace- obviously remembering how the problems worked. He's gotten every single problem right- though not at any amazingly fast speed. And of course, by amazingly fast, Sherlock means as fast as himself.

"Why? Because I'm bored. Recess is the worst time of the day- nothing to learn. I can only spend so much time getting fresh air." He complains. In truth, he needed something to keep him away from the bullies. He didn't care what they said. They were stupid, but they got in his way and knocked his books out of his hands. John nods knowingly.

"Yeah. Sometimes recess is just a bit too long." He smiles. "Well, I'd be glad to help you with your flowers." He turns back to focus on the teacher as she starts in on a new lesson.

Finally, after Sherlock has complained his way through a geography lesson and story time, Mrs. Hudson sends her class to lunch. They walk to the cafeteria in a semi-straight line- Anderson has once again won the illustrious spot of line leader by being a tremendous suck up. Sherlock sulks at the end of the line with John.

"Anderson's a…. Well, Mycroft called him a git. I'm not entirely sure what it means, but my mum yelled at him afterwards." Sherlock says.

"That's not a nice name, Sherlock." John chastises kindly. "My dad's a soldier so a lot of his buddies swear around the house. Mum doesn't like it very much- so you shouldn't say things like that. I'm sure he's not half bad." Sherlock frowns but ignores John's silly 'rule abiding attitude'. He'd find out how much of a jerk Anderson is eventually.

"Well, here- I sit over here… if you want to sit with me, I mean." Sherlock asks shyly. He doesn't want to lose the first semi-interesting kid to be in his class so soon. At the very least not before the hydrangeas.

"Sure." John shrugs and follows him to a bench in the corner. No one else sits down with them- at least not from their class. A ten year old boy walks up to them, sitting politely a few seats away with his friends.

"Hello, Sherlock." He says kindly. "Who the bloke?" He points at John.

"S'John." Sherlock replies, not at all showing the initiative to introduce John to older friend.

"My name's Greg." The older boy replies, he seems used to the moody and weird Sherlock. "Greg Lestrade. Don't mind Sherlock, he doesn't mean to be rude; he just never learned how to be polite. Sherlock you are supposed to introduce your friends."

"S'Lestrade." He replies crankily. He bites his peanut butter and jelly sandwich savagely. He doesn't like Greg's superior attitude or his condescending tone. He glares down his juice box as John and Lestrade shake hands briefly.

"What's your problem?" John asks patiently. "You were fine a minute ago."

"Oh, don't mind Sherly." Anderson appears behind Sherlock. "He's just a child. Skipped a grade. The teacher probably just got sick of his constant complaining. Obnoxious, this one."

"Oi!" Greg says from the other end of the table. "Leave 'im alone and go back to your own table, you overgrown brat." His friends snicker. John realizes that Sherlock sits by this older kid to protect himself. Otherwise he gets bullied constantly.

When Anderson finally stalks off under the threat of being pummeled by some intimidating older kids, the rest of the lunch passes uneventfully. Sherlock asks John about life in a military family, hoping to gather more information for his detective uses, and John asks Sherlock questions just to see if he knows the answers. They are fast friends, and the recess bell hadn't even rung.

* * *

**A/N: **This is the first chapter in hopefully a long an successful story. Or a rambling failure of KidLock feels. We shall see. Reviews are love and improvement.


	2. Hydrangeas

**Chapter 2: Hydrangeas**

"So, here's the plan. I'm going to make my way over to the hydrangeas under cover, and you, in the mean while, need to lift a second shovel from the sand box and prepare a hole on the far side of the rainbow slide." Sherlock is leaning in close to John, his hand gripped on a conspicuously bright pink play shovel.

"Any kind of shovel? Does it need to be washed first?" John's teasing, but he doesn't tease maliciously like Anderson or his lackeys. Sherlock studies him for a moment.

"I know you were joking, but it'd actually be better if you rinsed the shovel and dried it. Pure sand has a pH of 7, but it's impossible to test at recess." Sherlock replies. "Alright, we've got to start now or I won't be able to properly observe any immediate changes."

"Wait- Wait!" John holds out a hand to stop Sherlock from running off towards the pink buds by the front wall. "You didn't explain anything! What are we even doing?" He says demandingly. Sherlock can't help but grin.

"Alright, alright. Fine." Sherlock grumbles eager to be off. "The hydrangea flower has a natural indicator in its petals. In alkaline soil, that is dirt that's basic, the flowers are pink or red. If the flower grows in acidic soil the color should be a darker blue or purpley color. Can we try now?" John laughs as Sherlock fidgets, anxious to be off.

"Okay, don't hurt yourself." John walks off to the sandbox to find an appropriate shovel while Sherlock obtains his plant. There he finds… Anderson's lackey. A short dark skinned little girl who John is sure his dad's buddies would have loads of colorful words for. She smirks at him through a veritable afro of black curly hair.

"Doing chores for the freak?" Her voice his harsh and judgmental; John immediately doesn't like her. She's far too rude, and besides, her sandcastle is going to collapse on her green army man.

"I am _helping Sherlock _with an _experiment._" He tries to sound important, but his little boy mouth cannot form the words correctly, so he ends up tell her he's helping Sherlock with an _espleriment_.

"Whatever you say, kid." She tries to make herself sound important. "He's still just a geeky kid playing with pink flowers in his spare time." She builds a castle for herself, no doubt pretending she's a princess, but John just thinks she's more like the ugly stepsisters.

"What's your name?" He asks as he rinses off a green shovel in small bucket of rainwater, changing the subject away from Sherlock. "I think we should hold off on the spitting insults until after we've introduced ourselves, eh?"

"My name's Sally Donovan." She says, at least pretending to be sincere. "And John, if you want to have friends at Baker, you shouldn't play with the freak."

"What's your problem!" John snaps, angry at this stupid, rude, and petty girl. "He's just a little kid! Anderson said he skipped a grade; you should make him feel welcome!"

"Ha! Like he's made the rest of us feel nice. Always calling is dumb and blind. He's always solving little mysteries. Who threw the crayon? Where did Annie's picture go? Who pushed Ben off the teeter tauter? He thinks he's soooo smart. He's crazy." John frowns angrily and it just drives Sally to upset him more.

"He's just a freaky little robot always trying to show off 'cause he can't understand no one- HEY!" Sally's vicious rant is cut off when John kicks her sandcastle into her lap. "MRS. HUDSON!" She cries. Their teacher rushes over to check on the girl. She immediately checks to see if sand has gotten in her eyes or mouth, but she's okay. John didn't aim to hurt, just wreck her castle.

"John Watson! We do NOT kick the sand! Go to the time out box." She doesn't look at John longer than to point in the direction of a spray painted box against the side of the school as she helps Sally brush the sand of herself. At first he thinks he's let Sherlock down already, but then he sees a person in the time out box. His face is hidden, but only one student in 221b has hair that dark and curly, and besides, there's a pink shovel abandoned at his feet.

"Hey mate." He says sitting next to Sherlock and impersonating the cop shows his mum likes. "What are you in for?" Sherlock looks up and smiles.

"Apparently there's some rule that says you can't dig up the flower beds. There's not actually. I had Mycroft look it up for me." John shrugs non-committally. He knew very well that grown-ups twist the rules to get what they want. That and lie.

"Better luck next time, right?" he smiles and shoves Sherlock lightly, getting a soft chuckle.

"Next time better be a while away, or they're going to call Mum. Or worse- Mycroft." John laughs with Sherlock, a really slightly high-pitched childish laugh. The kind Sherlock has rarely laughed before.

"Hey, wanna come to my house after school?" John asks. "It's not much yet, but it's got a pretty big yard and lots of other flowers… Maybe you could stay for dinner… Tonight's spaghetti night!" John tacks on that last point like it's an incentive. In his mind, no kid would turn down free SPAGHETTI.

"I'm sorry, I can't. I have violin lessons after school, and my mum says that I have to eat dinner with the family. Tonight's something gross with lots of vegetables. " Sherlock looks genuinely disappointed. "I'll see if maybe I can get her to say yes to you coming over though…" He asks shyly.

"Hey! No talking in the time out box!" Mrs. Hudson snaps, apparently finished caring for Sally. "John I want you to slide down to the other end. This is punishment, not time to talk with your mates!" John shrugs and rolls his eyes, scootching down a few feet. He turns to try to communicate that he'd like to go to his house one day, but Sherlock already returned to a glowering ball.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Sherlock and John joked around through science and a spelling test, effectively earning them two warnings and stern talking to, and all too soon Mrs. Hudson was handing them a worksheet of homework, and making sure they had their jackets and backpacks and their shoelaces on right, and sent them out the door to a hoard of parents.

* * *

**A/N: **It's a bit short, but I think it's good. Do you? Review?


	3. Holmes the Elder

**A/N: **I wanted to apologize for the update time- my life got in the way for a bit, and my computer was confiscated. Oh the joys of being 16. Anyway, the projects not been scrapped, and I'd say updates should be coming regularly from now on, but isn't that just the kiss of death. This chapters a bit on the short side and unbeta'd, but I am hoping that in my free time tomorrow and Saturday I can crank out this chapters partner chapter. Love and kisses, Kylie.

* * *

**Holmes the Elder **

Forty-five minutes after leaving Sherlock with a tall young woman, who was explained to be Sherlock's driver-slash-nanny afterschool, John is bumping his way down the streets of London in a school bus. He watches his new surroundings flash by, trying to make a mental map for when his mum will finally let him walk to school with the other kids from his complex. So far, he only recognizes a few prominent landmarks, like Big Ben towering in the distance.

When John exits the school bus in front of his new apartment complex, he can't help but notice the tall gangly and ginger tween leaning against a sleek black umbrella. At first, he is glancing down at a mobile phone, but at the hiss of the doors opening, he looks up at right at John. At first, he thinks he must be going mad, but no. The kid is starring right at him.

"John Watson?" His voice rings out clearly and precisely over the short distance of grass separating the sidewalk where he stands, and the road where the bus was now leaving a bewildered John. The unusual character swings his brolly effortlessly was he walks nearer, delicately picking his way through the decorative flowers and neatly trimmed shrubbery.

"I didn't mean to frighten you." He says again in his posh voice, as he arrives on the curb next to John and gestures for the younger boy to walk with him. "I only wish to accompany you to your apartment, and have a little chat about your new friend." John's face furrows into an utterly confused expression. What did Sherlock have to do with anything? He'd only known him for a day! And how did this kid know anyway, he looked too old to go to Baker.

"I have a dear friend, one year below me, who has told me that little Sherlock has a new mate, and I wish to strike a deal." His fluid and convincing voice begins its melodic argument the second John sets off for his building. "You see, at this point in time, I am entirely blind in classroom Two-Hundred and Twenty-One Bee of Baker Elementary. The staff will not give me daily reports of Sherlock's behaviour, nor will they allow me to bug the room with a small camera and microphone. This is cause of great distress for me." He pauses for a moment to deduce John's reactions to his words.

"Yeah, well, what do you want me to do? I can't get any more access than you!" John demands challengingly, however his stance is unchanged for the forced calm, no doubt mirroring his military father. The confusion lining his brow has smoothed into plain defiance. The boy expected as much.

"Relax, John." He says with an air of condescension. "I merely ask that once a day you inform me of Sherlock's behavior in class today, and in return, I'd be more than happy to have our driver, Anthea, bring you a treat at the end of the week. Like ice cream." John's like pudgy hands have curled into a tight threatening fist.

"Listen, Mister. I don't know who you think you are, but Sherlock is my friend, and friends don't go tattle-tailing on each other just to get some free ice cream from some pompous pimply kid with a silly brolly. Obviously, if Sherlock wanted you to know about his day, he'd tell you himself. Now, my mum has a plate of first-day-of-school cookies getting cold in the kitchen. You're not getting invited in for one, so I think you should just go find Anthea and drive back to the little dumb place where you came from." John fumes at the ginger-haired boy, further enraged by his lack of reaction.

"I see." He hums contemplatively. "Enjoy your cookies, John. But be warned, we will meet again…. And I do not take kindly to those who insult my brolly." He swishes away, his umbrella swinging easily through the air as he meanders back to a familiar looking expensive black car parked in the main parking area. John turns, trying exceedingly hard to get the crisp about-face his dad does, and then runs inside for a warm chocolate chip cookie, his camouflage backpack thumping lightly against his back.

Before the door even snaps shut he's shouting to his mum all about the strange curly-haired boy he sits near, and all about how the pretty flowers around the school are actual magic and can test to see if the soil is going to burn you with its acid. His mum nods along before gently correcting John on the finer points of Sherlock's experiment while offering him a deliciously warm and melty cookie.


	4. Lessons

**Chapter 4: Lessons**

"Sherlock!" A piercing sing-song voice greets Sherlock as he arrives in the waiting room of his music lessons. He can't resist a small smile and an eye roll before turning around to the posh boy in a perfectly pressed private school uniform, sitting in one of the cushy chairs, his feet kicking as they cannot reach the floor. He takes a moment to study the carefully gelled dark hair, take in the slightly scuffed dressy shoes, and notice the tiny scrap on his palms as the other waves gleefully at him.

"Good Afternoon, Jim. I see you've been having trouble staying upright on the playground again" He says smoothly. "What happened this time? Did the bullies tie your shoes together?" He mocks as he kneels backwards on the chair across from the boy, his arms folded on top of the back. However, Jim seems unfazed. He continues to grin widely at the only other person in the waiting room.

"Oh, this?" He looks at his hand in over dramatic surprise, before his lips twist back into a cunning smirk. "Nah… My dearest Seb tripped me while racing today. He's such a cheater. He even ruined my new trousers." But Sherlock knew that. His clothes were too perfect to have been worn at school all day. Even if Jim had a talent for keeping himself looking impeccable, he'd changed before coming to his lessons.

"He only cheats as much as you do, James." Sherlock says truthfully. He's known Jim long enough to know that there were very few things that he did not win. Usually he won in underhanded and cheating way. The only times he couldn't consistently claim victory were his arguments with Sherlock. It was the only thing that kept him coming back to his weekly acting lessons. Jim winks coyly, then waits, leaning forward waiting for Sherlock to continue.

"Well, don't be rude, Sherlock." He says when the smaller boy says nothing. "I've told you about my friend, now tell me all about your new friend!" He giggles, as Sherlock is unable to keep the shock off his face. He knew Jim was smart, but he was not supposed to be this good. He's supposed to be smart like Greg is smart- able to follow his way of thinking but not do it himself. Before Jim can put in a cutting comment, Sherlock regains his composure.

"What would you like to know?" He asks in the polite facade that all of their conversations take place under. "Let's see… His name is John Watson; he's a military transfer student. His dad is working with the military not far away, but his mum prefers to live in London. He's intelligent enough, and a loyal friend." Sherlock shrugs. "A bit average, but he's funny." To his surprise, James laughs.

"Oh, I know. Tell you what, tomorrow, why don't you tell him that Sebastian Moran says hello." Sherlock rolls his eyes. Of course James Moriarty would know one of the only friends John has in London right now. Sherlock would have to keep an eye on that though. He didn't want his new friend deserting him to go to one of Jim's lackeys. That wouldn't be very good.

"Well if that's settled, why don't you tell me about the cake you had for lunch? Is it your birthday, James? I didn't get you anything. Sorry, I would have- but I had more important things going on." He's cheating now too. Mycroft had told him on the car ride over, still under the delusion that Jim was his 'little friend'. Jim smiles.

"That's okay. Just to sit here at chat with your massive intellect is enough of a present (for me)." They both know that there is a hint of truth to this. Sherlock sits back on his heels, glancing at the clock. He still had fifteen minutes until his lessons began. Jim had ten.

"Oh Sherlock, I've waited all week to see you again, and this is all you have to say to me?" He pouts. "No 'How's your amazing acting career going'? No 'What masterpiece did you learn to sing this week, Jim'? I'm hurt." He looks up at Sherlock with his huge eyes turned into a pathetic puppy eyed look. "Since you've dropped the ball today, I'll be so kind as to pick it back up. How was your Hydrangea experiment?"

"Failure. The supervisors caught me attempting to get a flower, and I spent the rest of playtime under strict supervision." As much as they fight, Sherlock enjoys talking about himself, and Jim is always glad to hear stories of Sherlock's fascinating experiments.

"What a shame." Jim says honestly. "You see, what you need to do is have your accomplice create a distraction. Pull a few teachers to the other side of the playground. You'll have enough time to at least hide your flower, if not plant it." Jim says, grinning toothily at Sherlock. "Have your friend go push someone off the monkey bars, or steal the class crybaby's football." Sherlock's already shaking his head.

"No, he can't do that. He's already been in trouble with me before. I don't want to risk him getting caught again. They'll call his mum, and he'd have to stop helping me. Made that mistake with Anderson." He shakes his head then folds his hands in thought.

"You could make the distraction and have him get the flower." Jim offers, fully knowing that that would get Sherlock in a lot of trouble. "Or hire the crybaby to do the distracting on their own. And you and your precious John can skip of into the magic of flowers." He sneers.

"You could go to your lesson now." Sherlock replies hearing his instructor's heels click down the hall towards the waiting room. "Unless you have some evil plot to fulfill first. In any case, last night Mycroft was telling me about a mind palace and I need a few moments to check up on the start of mine. Good day, Jim. Try not to make coach cry this time," He says dismissively. Jim frowns and pads down the hall following his teacher as Sherlock dissolves into his thoughts and plans. Tomorrow, he would not fail.

* * *

**A/N: **I suck. I fail so hard for not getting this to you guys faster. But guess what! I paid for it by having my beta be an extremely insulting Brit. She yelled at my style and Americanism and changed it so it was less offensive. Please, please review. I really enjoy your reviews and they do motivate me to write more!


End file.
